


Only For You

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Femdom, Humiliation, Master/Pet, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Verbal Humiliation, sub!Lucio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Mistress Amalia indulges her bratty sub Lucio in a scene.





	Only For You

Even the gentle brush of her bare feet against the plush crimson carpet, the shift of her body weight across the bed, the whisper of her fingers through her silver-blonde hair as she tucked it behind her ears, seemed too loud to Lucio’s heightened senses. When the lamplight flickered, candleflame crackling behind the bars of the sconces in the wall, he jumped. His pulse pounded in his throat, his wrists, close to every point the ropes pressed tightly into his skin. Behind his back, his hands flexed, golden fingers no stronger than those of flesh and bone after the charm she’d cast; her magic flowed through the inner workings of the prosthetic, illuminating his left side with the barest hint of a blue glow, moonlight through ice. Lucio clenched his metallic fist again, marveling at the stiffness of the joints, how he could barely move the digits that had come to feel like such a part of him.

The sudden shock of her hand across his face brought him staggering back into the moment. “Stop messing with my knotwork,” she said, her voice pitched low like the shadows gathered in the corners of their bedchamber. She stood before him now, honey and ivory. In his distraction, exploring the sensations in his arm, Lucio hadn’t even heard her move again. “You know it’ll hold.”

He summoned his trademark cocky grin, though the power of the small woman in front of him set his heart thrumming. “Oh, Amalia.” Lucio lifted his chin, jutting it towards her. “Like your strings could ever tame this beast.”

Color rose to his cheeks and bare chest as his heart kept pounding through the long thread of silence quivering between them, but it was what Amalia had been waiting for. Her lips curled into a vicious smile and Lucio felt his cock, already half hard from being tied and having the power of his arm drained, twitch at the punishment such a response to his defiance promised. He let out a rush of breath as she took a step closer to him, eyes narrowed to slits.

“‘Beast,’ is it?” Amalia rested a hand on the top of Lucio’s head. He inhaled sharply at her touch, the first he’d gotten since his arms were bound. She laughed at his eagerness and tightened her grip on his hair, sliding her delicate fingers through the fine golden strands until her nails met his scalp then pulling hard, exposing his throat. “You're awfully talkative for a beast.”

Lucio’s eyes watered from the small sparks of pain lancing down from the crown of his head. A blink and the tears spilled over, cutting the beginnings of a trough in his eyeliner. Still, he smiled. “As a witch, aren’t you used to that by now? I thought all of you had talking animal pets.”

“Is that what you want, ‘Cio?” Amalia leaned over him, her movement sending a cascade of scent across Lucio’s face. Cinnamon and rose petals, uniquely her…  Lucio’s cock strained against the prison of his tight white trousers. She brought her other hand to his face and brushed a tear away. “D’you wanna be my pet? That’s a far cry from a beast, being chained to a witch’s hand.”

“Ch-chained?”

Amalia released Lucio’s hair and retreated from him with another chuckle. He snapped his head upright and squirmed against the restriction of the ropes, longing to follow.

“Ropes won’t do for such a prized possession, will they?” She walked all the way across the room to the vanity and rummaged in one of the drawers for a moment before returning to the pool of candlelight with a hairbrush, its handle finely carved from cedarwood and inlaid with carnelian. “A proud beast brought low has gotta have chains.”

Mouth gone dry, Lucio watched Amalia sit in a velvet-upholstered armchair across from his perch on the end of the bed and begin to brush through her long hair. With each pass, the curtain of pale blonde shined more sleekly. He longed to bury his nose in that hair, breathe in the scent of it, of her —

“Lucio.” The smack of the broad back of the brush against her palm echoed dully through the room. “I won’t be happy if I lose your attention again.”

He knew she meant it.

Amalia tossed her hair over her shoulder and fixed her gaze on him. “So, beast? You’re so haughty and sure of yourself, but you’d hand your reins over to me, wouldn't you?” She slid to the edge of the chair, quicksilver in a woman’s body, her hands clenched on the arm-rests like a queen declaring war.

Lucio could feel the pride he always clung to slipping away as the green in her eyes gathered strength from the lamplight. The words that once came so quickly and eagerly to crowd his tongue, to make a fool of him, were nowhere to be found now, in her shadow. But he opened his mouth anyway, gaping at her.

“Answer me, animal.”

He looked at her pleadingly. Against his back, trapped by lengths of strong scarlet cording, his hands reached for her of their own accord. He swallowed against the dryness choking him and tried to obey her. “I—”

“Speak!”

“I am your pet, mistress,” Lucio managed at last, chest heaving. “Chain me up, tie me up. I want you to control me!”

Amalia sat back in her chair. “Finally. Camio is more forthcoming,” she said, nose wrinkled in distaste. “I should choose a more obedient pet.”

“No!” Lucio startled himself with the force of his reaction. “Mali, mistress, please!” He writhed against the embrace of the ropes, desperate to throw himself at her feet, all pretense abandoned, forgotten in the desire to submit to the power before him.

“Be quiet, Lucio.”

His thrashing ceased at once, replaced by ragged breathing bordering on sobs. The furrows bored by tears through his thick eyeliner had grown wider.

“I told you already to stop testing my ropes. How can I put you in chains if you can’t even handle these?” Amalia stood up, hiding her brief flash of concern in the motion. She felt a shift in him that hadn't happened before. He'd never used their safeword in all their sessions together. Still, she knew he would if he needed to. She shook her head, settling herself back into the scene, and stalked back across the springy red carpet, clutching the hairbrush. Lucio angled himself towards her as much as he could while still bound to the bed, his hips rocking helplessly in search of friction. A quiet whimper slipped from him when she paused a hand’s-breadth away, close enough to feel the heat of his skin.

“Oh, dear.” Amalia clicked her tongue, folding her arms. “Some animal I have here, pet or no. How can I show this creature off, roped or chained?” She began to pace around him, eyes darting from his flushed face to the tendons standing out stark and shadowed in his neck to the obvious bulge between his tightly clenched thighs. “Mannerless, uncivilized, noisy. What would people say if I brought you out to the town square on a market morning?”

Lucio’s eyelids fluttered but he kept his mouth shut tight. He couldn’t silence the whir of alchemical machinery in his golden arm as it fought to escape the control of Amalia’s charm, though.

“You’d have to be gagged in a crowd, pet. We couldn’t risk you embarrassing the palace with your sass, could we? Not anymore. Of course —” Amalia paused in her half-circle path and ran the brush through Lucio’s disheveled hair, sweeping it back into place. “I’d have you groomed to perfection first. No matter how naughty my pets are, they will look like they belong to me. The witch who serves the city must have all the finest.” She straightened and tilted Lucio’s head back, catching beams of candlelight in his hair. “And I will, by the time I’m through with you.”

The mingled threat and promise of her words met in Lucio’s ears and sent a tremble of anticipation down his spine. Though painfully compressed against the restriction of his pants, his cock leaked a long spurt of precum and he couldn’t resist thrusting into the wetness, the small movement centered around his oversensitive slit enough to knock his breath away and make him curl into himself.

Amalia moved in a flash, a blur of icy blonde and pale skin. She grabbed Lucio’s chin with one hand and forced him to look up at her, into her narrow green eyes. His pupils had almost swallowed the silver-white of his irises, blown wide and black by the low light and his arousal. The last vestiges of plagued red still lingered as a thin ring around each iris, but Amalia barely noticed it anymore. Her voice rolled like thunder over the ocean as she growled, “I warned you that I wouldn’t tolerate another distraction, didn’t I, ‘Cio?”

All he could do was nod, and he could barely do that with his jaw in her grasp.

She glanced into his lap. Another gush of precum had dampened the front of his trousers and his cockhead pushed at the fabric, red and hard and easily visible through the thin, wet cloth. “That cock of yours is determined to humiliate you,” she said. She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached down and swatted at it, delighting in the jolt that slammed through him as he struggled to obey her and stay still. “You won’t last much longer, will you?”

In his haze, Lucio realized she was right. Embarrassment replaced the blush of lust on his cheeks and chest. Amalia released his chin as he nodded slowly, still unable to speak.

“Pathetic.” She straightened but didn’t step away. “You really are a beast, rutting your pleasure against whatever you can find then spilling it all and going on your merry way, huh?”

Lucio’s face burned, hotter than the candlefires. More precum widened the wet patch on his trousers. His cock jumped and twitched, desperate for touch.

Amalia steadied herself on Lucio’s shoulder as she swung one leg onto the bed, angling her open hips towards his face. Slowly, she drew one hand across the inside of her thigh and through the slickness gathered between her lips, drawing it out until it broke and began to drip from her fingers. She pressed her gift to Lucio’s mouth, watching impassively as he surged forward with a strangled whine and replaced the glisten with his own saliva. She didn’t react when she pulled her hand away from him and dragged it down herself until she could slip her fingers inside, meeting little resistance. Her eyes widened only slightly when she found the rough, wrinkled spot she was searching for and began to stroke it, the meat of her palm pressed against her clit. She kept her gaze trained on Lucio’s, the wet sounds of her ministrations growing louder as she kept on.

Finally, a particular touch made her eyes roll back and a gasp force its way past her stoic lips. Lucio trembled, so close to the edge, almost overwhelmed by her spice-and-rose-and-sex scent, the closeness of her, the lewdness of her masturbating just out of his reach. He tried to beg with just his eyes, to break through the spell she hadn’t even cast on him, but he knew she’d never let him get away with it. He had asked her for this. As such, he had to obey. He must. “P-please—” he breathed, barely a noise.

She didn’t hear him, lost in the ecstacy of her own hand. Or ignored him. He couldn’t tell which.

“Mali, please.”

Still she worked at that spot deep inside, the tendons in her wrist and forearm taut. Lucio squirmed helplessly, desperate.

“Mistress!”

Amalia opened her eyes and slowed her hand a fraction. “You know what I want, ‘Cio,” she said breathlessly, fucking herself on her fingers. “Say it.”

He felt more tears prickle at his eyes and let them flow. Amalia could ask him for anything like this and he would say whatever she wanted him to. She was brighter than sunlight, sweeter than sin, more beautiful than the mainland to a marooned sailor. How could anyone resist her? Why would anyone dare? “I am weak for you, and only for you,” he whispered, a prayer to the only goddess he’d ever believed in. “For everyone else I’ll be strong, but only you can make me fall apart.”

She came with a guttural cry, a thin stream of clear-white fluid soaking her hand and dripping onto his thigh. “Oh, ‘Cio,” she groaned, staggering against the force of her orgasm, “‘Cio, say it again!”

“You make me so weak, Mali,” he said eagerly, relishing the crush of her fingers into the muscle of his shoulder. “I can’t stand against you.”

“ _Mmmnnn_ —” Riding her aftershocks, Amalia came again. Slowly, legs shaking like aspen leaves, she sank onto Lucio’s lap and pressed her forehead against his, panting. With her eyes still closed, she traced one finger along the join of his skin and prosthetic arm, freeing him from the weakening charm. “You can break the ropes, if you want,” she murmured. “I don’t feel like untying them all.”

Strength flowed back into the false muscles. “I don’t want to hurt you if they spring back.”

She grunted. “Fine. Give me a bit, though, if you can. I came like a damn tidal wave and I’d like to enjoy it as much as I hope you did.”

“Erm…” Beneath her, Lucio shifted.

Amalia sat up and blinked. Lucio kept his eyes trained on his lap, and after a moment she followed his gaze. “‘Cio! You didn’t cum?”

His obvious erection, tented fabric almost transparent with the flood of precum he’d released, answered for him.

“D’you wanna cum in your pants, since they’re a mess already, or in me, or what?” Amalia tilted his chin up to look at her fully and rested her elbows on his shoulders, careful not to lean any closer to him.

He didn’t, or couldn’t, answer, blush creeping up his cheeks again.

She frowned, closing her legs around his so his thighs were forced together, trapping his cock between them. “Mmm? Remember, I don’t have to let you cum at all.”

“M-mouth,” he stuttered.

“Don’t be fucking rude, Lucio. Ask me properly.”

Lucio swallowed hard. “Can you use your mouth please, mistress?”

“That’s better.” Amalia smiled. “Of course I can, baby.” She stood up, still shaky, and pushed between his legs. She pulled his waistband down with both hands, smile widening as his cock sprang upright, finally freed. Amalia settled down on her knees and took him by the base. Even that small touch made him writhe, back arching. She held him still until he relaxed. “Oh, you’re ready for this, aren’t you?”

“Held off… as long… as I could…”

“You’ll hold off as long as I tell you to.”

“Y-yes, mistress.”

Satisfied, Amalia slid her lips over Lucio’s dripping cockhead, cupping the tip with her tongue before sliding under his foreskin and pushing it back. She lingered at the ridge, tracing around and around until he bucked against the hand she kept wrapped firmly around him, preventing him from getting any closer. She teased the slit mercilessly, her other hand stroking the length of him. Lucio panted and moaned, his hips popping in their sockets as he flung his knees out, desperate for leverage. A jumble of words in his native language flowed from his mouth, muttered so quickly Amalia couldn’t parse them. After she finally swallowed him into the tight heat of her throat, he let out a loud grunt and stumbled back into Vesuvian.

“Mali— A-Amalia, fuck. That feels so fucking good, baby, oh! Please, please, Mali, please! Fuck, fuck, please!”

Amalia drew back, releasing him with a wet pop. “Please what, ‘Cio?” She grinned at him, saliva and precum smeared across her lips.

Lucio shuddered, shoulders flexing, and the ropes binding his arms gave way with a series of angry snaps. Amalia startled, the smile falling from her face, but Lucio shook himself loose and grabbed his purpled cock with his newly-freed hand. “Please let me cum,” he begged, close to a sob, his alchemical arm clutching a handful of the bedspread next to him.

Amalia regained her composure quickly, batting his hand away. “In my mouth or on my face?”

“A-anywhere!”

“‘Cio…”

“Face! Face!”

As soon as the words left Lucio’s lips, Amalia began jerking him off in earnest. “You can cum.”

Lucio obeyed with an animalistic shout, throwing his head back as pulse after pulse of creamy white streaked Amalia’s cheeks, chin, lips. She darted her tongue out to taste it, grinning at the musk-tang that was as much Lucio as his eyes or his voice. His cock twitched several more times after he had nothing left to give, and, spent, he collapsed backwards onto the bed.

Amalia climbed on after him, crawling up his lithe body until their faces were level. “Get this off me, would you?”

He smiled weakly at her, still breathless. “What, you don’t like it?”

“I can’t reach it all, smartass.”

Lucio kissed her clean, as pleased to taste himself on her skin as she’d been. They laid together as both of their heartbeats settled, staring at the firelight dancing on the ceiling.

Amalia spoke first. “You did really good, ‘Cio.” She nuzzled into his chest, planting a row of kisses down his sternum. “There was a minute, in the middle, where I wasn’t sure… I thought you were gonna call it. Or I would.”

Lucio tightened his grip around her shoulders. “Everything was fine. I knew you were going to… well, I didn’t know what you were going to do. But I trusted—”

Amalia lifted her head, propping her chin on his ribs so she could meet his eyes. He was blushing again.

“I trust you, Mali. More than anyone. I mean when I say… w-what I say… every time I say it.”

_I am weak for you, and only for you._  Amalia smiled and reached up to run her hand through his hair. It was damp with sweat and his eyeliner ran in tracks down his cheeks. The rope bindings had left red marks crisscrossed over his right arm, and where both arms had been pressed against his back. “I think you need a bath, baby,” she said softly. “In a few minutes, though. I just want to stay here with you first. Is that okay?”

Lucio pulled her even closer, inhaling the scent of her hair. He let out his breath in a blissful sigh. “Whatever you want, Mali. It’s all yours.”


End file.
